I inherited impressively thick eyebrows from my dad - thanks pops - which have proven to be both a blessing and a curse throughout the years. If I look back to pictures of myself in early middle school aka the Height of Awkward, I am horrified to see that my brows, if allowed to reign free, essentially grow from ear to ear. I became aware of the fact that they needed severe upkeep in grade six, thanks to the one and only Mark Bowles, my 6th grade Tormenter-turned-BFF.
Fall 1999: We were on the same team at our public middle school and were on the bus going to some kind of field trip. Back in those days, Mark was in the cool group and I was.. not quite as much in the cool group. I will never forget what happened. As I was innocently sitting in my seat at the front of the bus probably wearing some khaki short-alls, Birkenstocks and my favorite lilac waffle shirt, I heard my name called from a group of laughing popular kids in the back. His voice was above the rest. Slowly, I turned around to see him pointing at me and issuing a public declaration that I had a unibrow, and they had all noticed. In front of the entire class. If I dig deep enough into my repressed memory, I think that pointing and fits of laughter ensued. Maybe not, but for the sake of this saga I'm sticking with it. I turned back around with my chin quivering out of control, trying to remember what my mom said about 'sticks and stones.' I think it goes without saying that middle school sucks. Still mortified and sobbing at my house later that night, I retold the story to my older sister Heather. We decided it was time to start plucking. Yikes.
Then came the era of The Overpluck.
I assume that most people who were ever in middle school in the late 90's are well-familiar with this term. It was a time of pre-waxing when we all took it a little far with the tweezers. In a few minutes, my brows were transformed from an untameable beast to ...almost nothing! In my efforts to make them perfectly symmetrical, more and more kept coming off. The barely-existent-high-arched-brow-look made me appear in a constant state of shock. This lasted for at least 3 years.
Then when I began high school I started to get the hang of how to shape the brows normally so that they looked a little more natural. I learned that it's all about shaping them to the contours of your face. To my great relief, Mya, my first regular waxer, taught me that "Honey, eyebrows are sisters, not twins." This also marked the beginning of my life motto, "Beauty is pain." Every two weeks I rolled up at Merle Norman to shape them up. I firmly believe that nicely shaped eyebrows can transform even the most unfortunate face.
From high school all through college I went through a string of preferred waxers, until finally landing at my favorite spot, Brow Lounge, in Greensboro. It is amazing what a wax does to my face (starting with the fact that after I get it done you can actually see my face), and it requires a lot of trust to let someone do your brows. If they mess them up, you are screwed for at least a month. I learned that lesson the hard way at Friendly Center Ulta, when I left with my left brow about one inch shorter than my right.
My senior year of college I was introduced to the concept of eyebrow threading from Emily, my roommate who had recently travelled to India and swore by this technique. I went to the threading kiosk at the mall and was hooked.
Then I moved to India. You can imagine my elation when I realized that I would be working approximately 37 steps away from a Beauty Parlor where the threading is 30 cents. Approximately 50 times less expensive than it is at home. Every two weeks during my lunch break I walk out to Tame the Beast. Yesterday I persuaded coworkers Voratida and Dona to come with me and do it for the first time. They were resistent, but anyone who knows me well knows that I can talk you into anything if I am determined enough. I broke them down and they accompanied. Here are some pics.
Pre- thread. I was trying to make them as bushy as possible. I would zoom in more but it is frightening.
The Salon.
My FAVORITE girl. I want to take her home! She is so extremely presh.
Trim trim to Voratida.
It's a two person process here. Four hands, a roll of thread and some dull scissors later, and we are good to go people!
The picture I had us all take together. The inside of this place is about as big as it looks.
Now go get you some!!
[Disclaimer: Mark and I have since reconciled and he is actually one of the best guys I know :)]
